Refuge of an assumed danophile…

The hermit – part 3

As the days went by, she realized that if she was not to leave her apartment anymore, she needed to uncluther the place to have as much space as she could. She couldn’t push the walls, so getting rid of stuff was the only way to breathe easier.

Sorting shoes, she wondered why she couldn’t just throw them all away. She was a firm believer of barefoot walking, and never wore sandals, shoes or boots inside. Why keep any footwear then? But she still liked some of them too much to throw them in the black garbage bag. To prove herself right, she put on her favorite pair of stilettos, although she knew the sound of the heels would probably annoy the people downstairs.

The Hell…

She had thought withdrawing from this world she had known for so long, would have been tougher.

Society was really just another addiction. Another poison with its highs and its very painful lows. The only difference between it and things like heroin, tobacco, alcohol or even coffee was that people encouraged their kids to embrace the dependence as soon as they were born.

No one frowned upon you for being a junky. No one even offered to help clean up from it. Fuck, the “uncool” thing to do was to quit, really.

And she had… Cold turkey!

She got up and walked around the living room, rolling her hips. She giggle to herself, knowing how ridiculous she really was. Seduction was an art she had learned to get her fix, when she lived with them. The right look, the right tilt of the head, or touch of a hand… She knew how to get attention. How to be attractive.

But seduction was totally useless, now.

Though, she kind of missed it, suddenly. Picking up the calendar to count the days since she had last set foot outside her home, she realized it was Saturday… She checked the time, smiled and rushed to her room.

She picked her sexiest little black dress, chose matching earrings and necklace, and put on make up in a haste. Glancing at her silhouette in the mirror, she felt that exciting tingling in her chest.

She was a bit early, but she didn’t care. Time was all she had now, and she strolled back to the kitchen, heading for the door. Sitting on the floor, her back to it, she hoped he wouldn’t stand her up.

That would be a first.

She sighed, waiting for the soft knock she had heard every week for months now…